Author Archives: MumWroteWhat?

About MumWroteWhat?

Lover of food, wine, coffee and my children and mostly my husband.

How a Game of Football Gave Us a Spark.

 

wp-1486523804185.jpgLook at this photo and you will see what most Aussies see, a game of country football. But what happened here in Yarrawonga on Saturday was a lot more than that here at our place.

The things we do for charity! 

If you follow this link you will find the Dolphin Charity Football Game Facebook page. In short, the teams consist of generations of members of one family, the Runnalls, or the “Dolphins” against as many old buggers they can rope into playing “The Superstars”. The proceeds of the day go to the Yarrawonga Hospital Palliative Care Unit.

Until two days before the match we intended on going and supporting this great cause, but I had run into the main organiser in the street and he said, “Why didn’t I ask Fuzz to play?” Bloody good question young man, why not?

So I went home and told my hubby that he was to take his runners and a footy jumper down to the J.C. Lowe Oval for the match, not to worry too much, he would be only sitting on the bench. His initial reaction was immediate divorce. He instantly hated me for dobbing him in. He is 46 years old and has not played a game of football since 1993. Yep, half a lifetime ago.

I jibed him and told him he was a big sook, but in my heart I knew that he would love it! Every year as footy season approaches he tells me how he is going to make a comeback, he is at least going to train, or so he says. We have been together almost 13 years, and he has only ever talked about it.

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All stand for the National Anthem

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He did it. He ran out onto that ground, some kgs overweight, and he played football. I was amazed when he set up a goal in the first quarter, he looked like he knew what he was doing, and of course in his mind he did know what he was doing. The bench, in this instant, was designed that nobody would have to spend much time on the ground, and it was in the third quarter he returned to the field.

Of course by now we were expecting greatness, and when the ball came near him again, he believed it too. He saw that ball and had it in his sights. He felt 21 (his words) and he knew exactly how to pick that bit of pigskin out of the air. As he made his move, his age and fitness caught up with him and twang, his hamstring was strung. From the sidelines we knew he was a goner as he limped off.

But the thing is he did it. Our kids have never seen him play anything except some backyard antics. wp-1486523704293.jpg

As I iced his legs and fetched his beer that night I told him proud I was. I meant it! He got of his arse and off the iPad long enough to have a great day out. His kids saw a man they had never met and we had something to laugh about.

A few beers later and he thanked me for “making” him do it. He admitted that he has wished to have a reason to run out on the field one more time. He felt freaking awesome and we had shared something we can laugh about for a long time.

Isn’t it amazing how a few beers and a shared experience can add a little spark to our world?

P.S. There was over $12,000 raised. A fantastic result for all those involved. Congratulations to the organisers.

 

 

 

Back to School Routine. The bad, the good and the ugly.

stay-at-home-mumThis year I’ve been a stay at home mum for the entire summer break. We have gone to bed late, got out of bed late and eaten whenever we were hungry. Even though we have had an awesome summer, I was very excited yesterday to drop my kids at school for their first day in 2017.

GC8 is beginning grade 3 and BC5 is beginning grade 1. They were both a little concerned the night before about where they had to line up in the morning but both of them did as they should ate breaky,  left me at the gate with a kiss and a wave and went about their day.

I read a lot of comments on social media about how people hate school lunches and routine. I don’t hate either. I kind of try not to be a hater. I thought we had nailed that first day, and we were going to slip back into routine as naturally as a fish swims in the water.

But, parenting wouldn’t be parenting without a couple of fails…

  1. I put butter in CG8’s sandwich. Did I know I wasn’t supposed to? No, nope, narda, not at all. I copped some eye rolling about how dumb that was after school.
  2. I wouldn’t let her take a pencil case the first day, waiting to see what the teacher required. WELL….pencil cases are allowed, we don’t have shared cups of pencils any more, I’m in grade 3 you know.
  3. I hadn’t ironed the new school uniform and made her wear last years. She got it dirty. I swear she just got it dirty to spite me and make me iron the other one (I try not to hate, but I hate ironing).

But it wasn’t all bad. BC5 had a brilliant day. He has been running his own competition over the holidays called Child of the Day. Each evening I have to pronounce which one of them has been a better kid. He is still trying for that so…

  1. He ate every bit of his lunch, and loves butter, and I can do no wrong.
  2. He has shared pencils, just like last year, and it will all be good.
  3. He also came home dirty, but as he is a Boy Child, I am quite used to only getting one wear out of his t-shirt.

This morning is day 2 and we are back into routine.

  1. The children are not listening and wont eat their fucking (cooked) breakfast.
  2. The dress wasn’t ironed last night because the ironing fairies forgot to come as they were drinking red wine and eating gourmet dinner.
  3. I nearly put butter in the cucumber sandwich…again!
  4. When told to get dressed while I iron the stupid dress, they are busy looking for a particular Pokemon rubber off a pencil that wasn’t packed in the pencil case last night. It has to match the pencil, it can’t just be any kind. They are hanging out naked when I emerge with ironed dress.
  5. I start screaming for them to forget the fucking pencil, put on shoes, brush teeth and get in the fucking car in order to alert the neighbours that everything is back to normal.
  6. We almost forget drink bottles as they were getting filled when the dress crisis occurred, and I haven’t screwed on lids yet.
  7. As we drive to school GC8 tells me she hates me and  I respond in kind.

Isn’t it wonderful to know that we have our routine down pat after only two days?

“GAME of WAR” Widow

I Game of Warhave lost my husband. My kids have lost their dad, but before you start sending us letters and cards of sympathy, you should know, he is not dead. No. He is away battling others in an app. A very popular app which consumes so much of his time that our kids now roll their eyes and say shit like, ‘Dad wont do that, because, Game of War”.

From the minute he wakes MY (work) iPad is taken outside for his morning coffee and smoke. It then travels to the toilet to do whatever it is that makes men sit for so many minutes- WTF is with men and toilets?  When he returns from work there is a repeat of this action, then he sits in his “spot” outside, or has Doctor Sheldon Cooper would say in Big Bang Theory “single point of consistency in an ever changing world”, where he continues to communicate with his allies and plan strategies to attack their opponents, thus stripping them of hundreds of dollars worth of in app purchases which can never be recovered.

According to Wikipedia

The best you can do is not lose”, because a single attack can “destroy so much that it would take months of gameplay to recover… or 100 bucks”, , in contrast to other MMO games where players who spend money receive benefits that are permanent.

God help us if we need something done and the “Alliance” is about to attack another kingdom. We may as well be poo on the bottom of your shoe. It is real. The troops cannot be left alone. They could all die if he is not in attendance.

Aside from disinfecting the iPad regularly with Glen20, I am now weeding the vegie patch, which isn’t doing so well because in his words “I didn’t really care that much about preparing the soil this year” as well as other Gardening activities, which, in our marriage agreement were to fall on his shoulders as I HATE gardening.

GC8 says “if I ask Dad to make toast, he says one sec, and it takes him 30 minutes”. BC5 concurs.

He seems to know more about his online community than he does his Mates. He shares what we are having for dinner much as I do on Instagram and Facebook, but he shares with people he has never met and has never even had a Facey account. I am ‘Facebook friends’ with his friends and family just to keep them all in the loop as to what the children and I are up to while he is playing GoW.

The upside is I get to look at food pictures from around the world and occasionally one of his “friends” will share information that might spark some very welcome discussion (I am a talker, that’s why I write).

If you are also feeling a void in your life due to some type of app-diction, I want you to know you are not alone. I am here for you. In fact, I’d love a chat about your situation if you would like to have one.

Disclaimer; this content is not intended to cause haters against my husband. He is a loving and caring man even if he can be a bit slow to butter the toast.

 

Are You Like a Queen?

A peaceful afternoon on the couch.

Thanks to one of my Queens I have just put down the hilariously funny book Like a Queen written by Constance Hall. Thank you Sister for the loan, you know who you are.

Reading Constance’s journey of motherhood, sisterhood, wifehood and very relatable anxiety has made me laugh and cry out loud. I have to admit something.

I am writing to confess.

I have not been a good Queen.

I judged someone when I wrote Who’s Livin’ in the 70s just two weeks ago. I even wrote these words, ‘Now I am all about being a queen and preserving the sisterhood by not judging, but sorry, in this case I cannot help it.’  I admit it. I judged.

I began that post beginning with the words Judgement Warning! I got the most hits ever for one of my blogs. I smashed my previous stats, and it was making me feel good. I had more than double the views of my next most popular post, and I even began to think it might even go viral as I was getting hits world wide.

My inflated ego was quickly popped when one of the most respected sisters pointed out to me that I had been a bit mean in judging #ladywhosmokesincarwithkidwhileeating. She wanted to know when my halo had suddenly straightened and I had become perfect.

Rest assured my halo is still sideways and my angel wings are a little ruffled.

Thus said, it resonated with me that #queensunite is a bloody good idea. Not only will we be able to share our stories, but our kings might also enjoy a laugh or get a glimpse as to WTF goes though our heads.

So get your judgement caps off sisters, and put your sharing boots on.

Let’s love and support one another to be the best we can x

 

All Mums are Arseholes

I’ve just published Madly Menopausal Mum and had a bit of a parent brag at how I’m not such a bitch now that I’m getting some sleep. 

Then this happens. BoyChild wishes to spend $6 on fucking waste of money in app purchases and I said no. Money doesn’t grow on trees dude and I don’t care if it’s yours, you’ll regret it when you want to buy something awesome like Lego!

He pisses off to his room and locks the door. I politely knock and ask to chat about it (read: bang on door and say let’s talk!). No, you are so mean. I hate you. I don’t want to spend my money on something else, this is all I want…I notice we need a new roll of toilet paper and go and get one while he’s telling me off…eventually he smells the bacon and gingerly exits bedroom due to hunger.

Proud of my effort today. Should get about one hours peace as he inherited stubbornness from yours truly.

When they hate me most I am doing my best parenting!

Madly Menopausal Mum

Fuck you Menopause. Two years of being an arsehole to my family and friends and  I can finally give you the finger. All of those sleepless nights and hot flushes have finally come to an end. No, I haven’t finished, but I have that shit under control.

Thanks to the wonders of ancient medicine.  Two rounds of acupuncture and some Chinese herbal capsules and I am sleeping.

Sleeping = not such a bitch. My kids no longer see me as this all the time.mean-face

 

Worst thing is as an older mum, like lots of parents these days, I have little people at home who stress the crap out of me on a good day, without throwing in some hormone imbalance and general nastiness. They have copped the worst of me, let the times change for their sake. If it was the old days, I would be entertaining my grandchildren and not permanently caring for two primary schoolers who should have a young, cool, hot mum.

To any other women out there who are wondering why they have become short fused, prickly,  sweaty bitches. Get your hormones checked and when you’re told there’s not much you can do about it, get yourself some alternative therapy. One concern was me getting pregnant which would involve sex. I have been such a cow my husband wont even look at me, let alone throw me over and give me one.

My newfound niceness means I might spend some quality time with our children and perhaps fit a few minutes of parent sex in now and then.

 

Let it Go

Sometimes we find ourselves grieving but the person still walks the earth. It could be an ex lover, a friend or a family member. 

I have felt this grief. Something happened. Something I have no control over. I can’t change the past. I can’t change the decisions made. I can’t change the outcomes. I don’t own a Dolorian for time travel. The pain I feel in my heart is strong. That tearing your heart into pieces feeling.

At times it is so intense I want to spew. At times I am so angry I lash out at other loved ones (sorry dear, kind people). When talking about this my blood boils. I consume too much alcohol thinking about it. I shout. I swear. I have let it effect me. 

The time has come. I must let it go. I accept we can never be the same. I accept the things I cannot change. 

But I will never stop remembering the good times, because they were good and there have been many. You have changed our future, but you can never take our past away.

Memories cannot be erased. Time can change things but we cannot change the things which happen over time.

I release myself. I am free.